


Ace of Speeds

by TheGreatCatsby



Series: Wild Cards [1]
Category: All-New X-Factor, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, all-new x-factor is catnip for this ship, gambit - Freeform, i know the title is a bad pun but i like bad puns, playing fast and loose with comics, quicksilver - Freeform, warning: blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1937145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a match made with a corporate contract.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ace of Speeds

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say, I didn't even ship these two before, and admittedly my knowledge of comics is very small (I'm catching up). And then All-New X-Factor happened.

“You slept with his wife?” 

Lorna looked positively furious. She towered over Remy, who lounged in one of the kitchen chairs in a very non-apologetic way. 

He gave her a shrug and said, “It was a two-way street.”

“You idiot!” Lorna shouted. 

“What can I say?” Remy smirked at her. 

“Sorry,” Pietro chimed in from the door. He hadn't been there a second ago. 

“No one asked you,” Remy snapped. 

“Just helping,” Pietro said, grinning at him. 

“Shut up,” Lorna snapped. “Both of you, just. Shup. Up.” She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “I can't say I'm surprised. But do you realize how this makes us look? How can we be trusted with missions when we can't even be trusted to keep it in our pants?” 

“Speak for yourself,” Pietro muttered. Lorna shot him a glare. 

“It was a mistake,” Remy said. “It happens.” 

“Sleeping with the boss' wife doesn't just happen,” Lorna said. “I can't—I can't deal with this. If you keep this up you'll be off the team. And I don't even want to know what Serval Industry's severance package is in a case like this.” She turned on heel and stalked off. 

Pietro peeled himself away from the wall he was leaning against and sat down opposite Remy, still looking very amused. “Was that really worth it?” 

“What d'you know?” Remy asked. “I like ta have a good time.” 

“With the wrong people,” Pietro said. 

“At least I'm not spying for the Avengers,” Remy said, raising an eyebrow. 

Pietro sighed. “I'm going to ignore that, because it's not true. And also because what you did is worse.” 

“She's not satisfied,” Remy said. 

“So it was your job to satisfy her?” Pietro said. “Next time, satisfy people who aren't married.” 

“This is rich,” Remy said, “gettin lectured by you of all people. You're not even a hero.” 

“And you're a thief,” Pietro pointed out. “I'd say we're on equal footing.” 

“Nothing about you and me is ever gonna be on equal footing,” Remy said. 

Pietro stood up. “Suit yourself. But no matter what I've done, I haven't slept with the boss' wife.” 

He disappeared, with Remy shouting after him, “It was one goddamn time!” 

**

It wasn't like he could sleep with Lorna. Pietro would kill him. Hell, Lorna would kill him. And being a hero for hire with Serval Industries was better than the alternative, probably, but it could get lonely. What had happened was inevitable. He was evetually gonna sleep with somebody. 

It was just really unlucky that the sombody he slept with was so important. 

Lorna had grounded him, likely as a result of orders from higher up. She warned him that there would be repercussions, but she didn't seem to know what that meant. On that note, she left with the rest of the team on a mission, and Gambit had the place to himself. 

He stayed in his room with his cats. Just in case repercussions were forthcoming. There were no witnesses around to protect him. 

It'd been several hours when he heard the sound of doors slamming and people talking in raised voices, and he carefully placed one of the cats on the bed and crept towards the door. 

“Self thinks that Quicksilver should seek help,” Warlock's voice radiated concern, which was impressive for a robot. 

“He's right.” That was Doug. “It looks nasty.” 

“It's fine.” Pietro sounded rough. 

“He's an idiot,” Lorna's voice sounded strained. “If he doesn't want help, fine. Hopefully he doesn't bleed to death.” 

More doors slammed, and Remy took this as an opportunity to investigate. 

He found Warlock and Doug standing awkwardly outside the bathroom. 

“What's this?” he asked. 

“Quicksilver was injured,” Doug said. “We're trying to get him to get help--”

“I don't need help!” Pietro called through the door. 

“Self is very concerned,” Warlock added. “Even if Quicksilver is never concerned about self.” 

“It's because you're a robot,” Remy muttered. He looked down at the floor and swallowed hard. There was a trail of blood leading into the bathroom. He didn't want to be worried, not about Pietro of all people, but...that was a lot of red.

“Lemme talk ta him,” he said, after gathering himself. 

“He hates you,” Doug pointed out. “And you hate him.” 

“Yeah,” Remy agreed, “but it's kinda like a friendly hate. And I'm the only one brave enough ta barge in on him, go head ta head.” 

“This is true,” Warlock said. 

Doug sighed. “Fine. Don't kill each other.” He grabbed Warlock by the arm and led him away. 

Remy turned to face the door and took a deep breath before trying to open it. 

It was locked. 

He sighed and took out one of his playing cards, charged it, and threw it at the door. 

The door swung open, revealing a pool of blood on the floor and Pietro sitting on the edge of the bathtub, wrestlingwith his uniform. Remy stepped inside, careful not to get any blood on his boots, and closed the door behind him. 

Pietro glared up at him. His uniform was soaked, and there were streaks of red in his silver hair. He looked too pale. “I told you I don't need help.” 

“What happened?” Remy asked. It was the first time he'd seen any of them injured (if he wasn't counting the time Danger had speared Doug through the chest, but he'd been fine) and for some reason it was a shock. It had to happen at some point, but still. 

“I got scratched,” Pietro said. He tugged at his uniform again and managed to peel it off to the waist. His skin underneath was washed red with blood, and there were several deep cuts. Two on his arm and three across his torso. 

“Those ain't scratches,” Remy said. He took the roll of gauze from the sink and knelt in front of Pietro, deciding that his own clothes were a lost cause anyway. “Sit still.” 

Pietro narrowed his eyes. “What do you think you're doing?” 

“Helping your sorry ass,” Remy replied, unspoiling the gauze. “I think you need stitches but if you're gonna be a dumbass about it then I don't care what happens. But I'm not letting you die because you're stupid.” 

“I thought you'd like that,” Pietro said. “After all, I'm the villain here. Isn't that right? You don't trust me.” 

Remy found some antiseptic and cloth and frowned at the various gashes. He wasn't sure which ones to clean first. “Guess you weren't fast enough today.” He pressed the cloth into one of the wounds spanning Pietro's stomach and Pietro hissed, doubling over. “You're not fine.” 

“I'm going to kill you,” Pietro growled. “Either give me that or shut up.” 

“Nah, I like this,” Remy said, using his other hand to push Pietro back so he could see the other wounds. He continued cleaning, ignoring the sounds of pain coming from his team mate. “You're finally paying for your stupidity.” 

Pietro laughed. “Is that it? I didn't know you were so petty.” 

Remy tossed the bloodied cloth aside and began rolling gauze around the wounds. “You should be careful, talking ta the guy fixing your hurts like that.” 

“Why'd you sleep with her?” 

The question caught Remy off guard. He paused and glanced at Pietro, who genuinely looked curious (and a little glassy-eyed, but he was putting that down to the pain.) “Why d'you wanna know?” 

“Because it could've gotten you fired,” Pietro said. “I know you're a thief, but stealing someone's wife--”

“I was lonely,” Remy snapped. He focused on Pietro's chest, where one of the wounds stared back at him like a gaping, mocking smile. “That what you wanted ta hear? I felt lonely. It's hard ta feel like you belong with people like you.” 

“Don't I know the feeling,” Pietro muttered. “Lorna doesn't trust me and she's my sister. Half-sister.” 

“At least you got a sister,” Remy pointed out. “You're all new ta me. I'm starting to think maybe the best thing that could happen would be ta get fired.” 

“Then who'd be paying you for being a pain in the ass?” Pietro wondered. 

Remy covered up the last of the wounds. “I'd be paying myself.” His clothes were definitely a lost cause; blood had soaked into everything while he'd been working. He straightened up and found Pietro leaning forward. 

“I'd miss you,” he murmured. 

Remy's eyebrows rose. “You wouldn't be saying that if all the blood that's on me was in your body,” he said. 

Pietro's lips quirked upwards. “Perhaps. I'm willing to blame it on the blood loss.” 

“Or,” Remy said, unable to stop himself, “maybe my powers of charm aren't exclusive ta women.” 

Pietro made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a choke. “You wish.” He stood up, gingerly, half his uniform still sticking to his body, and tried to move past Remy. Instead he lurched forward and Remy caught him. 

“Looks like I make men fall at my feet, too,” Remy muttered. 

Pietro pushed him away. “I'm going to go to my room,” he said, “and sleep for a long time, and when I wake up I'm going to forget this whole thing.” 

He looked so wound up that Remy couldn't help but take his arm and pull him close, so that their noses were almost touching. “I could help you ta your room.” 

“I think I can make it,” Pietro snapped. 

“It's not about what you can and can't do, cherie” Remy said. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Pietro's lips.

There was a moment of hesitation, where Remy thought that Pietro might go with it, but then he pulled himself away and was out the door, leaving Remy with the taste of blood on his lips and Lorna staring at him from the hall. 

“Can you not,” she said, “flirt with my brother?” 

“I was just messing with him,” Remy said, smiling wide. 

“You look like a walking crime scene,” Lorna said. “Clean yourself up. And the bathroom. And just...” She made a noise of frustration and walked away. 

He glanced at the mess around him. He sincerely hoped that Pietro could heal without stitches. The wounds had been deep. Deep enough to cause a serious case of misplaced affection. 

Remy leaned against the sink, wondering if he'd enjoyed that more than he should have.


End file.
